FISHING TRIPS TO KANJALI
River fish was my staple diet as
a kid. That too caught fresh from Kanjali by none other than my Dad. My
favourite was fried fish and sweet milk for dinner. All the aunties and uncles
used to do hawww! They believed that my skin would turn white at places. It was
considered to be more of a curse I suppose. In Punjabi they used to say that I
would turn into “Dab-Kharabba” (spotted or patched in black and white). Well, I
am still short, dark and handsome for some.
If Dad was in a happy mood, meant
he is going fishing. On happy days he could pardon you for murder “Sare
khoon maaf”. His fishermen’s circle used to range from professional
anglers, desi fishermen, village folk, kabari’s (ragpickers) etc.
Depending on the inputs from these people, he used to prepare his bait for the
catch. “Gandoya” (earthworms) & Atta (flour) were the two
commonest baits. Special ones used to be Jhinga (prawns), live fish, guts of
table birds, frogs etc. He also was a collector of recipes of fish baits. Recipe
ingredients were mashed into clay balls and thrown weeks in advance for fish to
congregate at his favourite spot. Roasting and toasting various condiments used
to send aromas for miles. Imagine what must be happening to the fish.
He never used a fibre glass or
synthetic rods. He preferred the pure bamboo ones which used to be lightly roasted
and oiled with “Alsi ka tel” (Flax seed oil) for days together to get that “latchak”
(flexibility) to perfection. These bamboo rods were fetched from as far as
Barielly in UP. I still have his collection of hooks, lines and sinkers. The
variety is unbelievable. From a six inch hook to a 3 mm almost invisible hook.
The knots which he has tied on lines, I fail to unknot them till today.
Kanjali River was an off shoot of
Beas River; actually it is a flood water drain to divert excess water which
passes through Kapurthala and Kartarpur. It was fondly called a “Bein”
(rivulet). Only licensed fishermen could catch fish in it. In 1962 Dad had an
all India angling licence. We learnt this after he passed away when I saw his
licence for the first time.
There was a check dam which
Maharaja Jagjit Singh of Kapurthala had made on the bein. The Royal boats, sculls
and canoes later became our school property and boat club. Initially, our school
used to have river swimming, rowing and diving competitions there.
I was not that patient kind to
wait for a fish to get hooked. I used to run from uncle to uncle who used to
have one on the line and dad used to scold me that I will disturb the fish.
Sitting quietly for hours together as a boy was not my cup of tea. Some “khurafat”
had to be done. While we used to be standing on the narrow Kanjali bridge, Dad
would be concentrating about fifteen meters below where the fish used to be. I
used to be standing alongside counting trucks passing by, which used to almost
kiss your bums. I used to drop one chappal into the water. Dad used to fret and
fume and finally hook out my floating hawai chappal as I won’t stop crying.
If on Saturdays he used to get “keema”
(mince) from the market it was a hint that tomorrow is picnic. Mom would make “keema-pooris”.
After dinner, all fishing equipment used to be displayed in the drawing room.
Small rods with little hooks to keep me, mom and brother amused catching fingerlings
used to be made. We all used to hang on to dear lives on our orange coloured
Lamby. Brother cramped in front, Mom and dad on the seats, I on the stepney.
The rods used to be laid on the foot rest on the right with a blue plastic
bucket tied to the seat handle dangling alongside. That is how the Ellis’ used
to travel.
The bucket used to carry a frying
pan, a bottle of sarson oil, a masaladani (Condiment box), and a
durrie besides lunch. Our duty on reaching the spot used to be to run and get a
few bricks to fabricate a make shift choolah, then to collect firewood
for freshly caught fish which were fried as snacks with beer for dad. There was
a “baraf
ki taal” (ice shop) enroute from where we used to collect ice for
chilling beer and water. Beer bottles also used to be strung and lowered in the
river to chill if ice was not available. Mom, within minutes used to dish out
the crispiest fish. Mooli, gajar and shalgam for salad used to be pulled out fresh from
the fields. After lunch it used to be “Lassi” (butter milk) sessions
courtesy Kundan Singh, the boat club in charge.
Dad was very superstitious and used
cuss words often. A particular person he used hate, if he met him on his way to
Kanjali he used to abandon his plan of fishing that day. Then while casting his
line in case it used to get stuck in the tree above or the hook used to get
stuck in some piece of his clothing or overshoot or undershoot the precise
point he had in mind then Saali, ullu ki patthi could be heard
from miles.
Often we used to take a canoe or
a paddle boat for a spin. We used row to the other bank where the weaver birds
used to nest. It used to be teeming with birds of all kinds. We used to hide in
the over hangs, chase swimming snakes, drop messages in bottles etc. One never
wanted to return home in the evening. We used to come back tanned and dead tired.
The other treat we used to look forward to that day used to be “dhabe
ki daal and tandoori rotis”, as mom was given a night off. At the end
of the day there used to be a prayer to thank God for all the bounties he had
provided.
I loved to go on bi-cycle with
dad to Kanjali. How many times I did susu sitting on the cycle carrier
behind him, I don’t remember. As soon as I told him that pressure is high he
used to give a code word “sprinkle”. This meant that one could turn around and
do the job making zig-zag patterns on the road. Why I used to accompany dad was
actually to listen to so many stories and tales and the way he used to narrate
them. He used to do the same at night too but the feeling to listen to them
over and over again is inexplicable. Sometimes he used to carry his air gun and
if partridges posed on the road they used to be assured a place in the bag. If
he did not get fish, then doves cooing on the telephone wires were dinner. If
that too didn’t work out then egg curry was assured. Good old days they were.
Can we turn back in time? I
wonder!!!!!!!!
JAI HIND
© Noel Ellis
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